Part 6: World Coming Down
When Bart awoke, he felt groggy, far more exhausted than he should have been. There were vague recollections woven around dreams, had he been sleep walking? Lifting his head, he spotted the unconscious form of Billy sitting in one of the chairs from the fireplace, his chin dipped down to his chest, light colored hair reflecting the sunlight that streamed in from the balcony. When did Billy get here? Propping himself onto an elbow, Bart struggled to remember what happened the night previous, only recalling brief sensations of running along the balcony. Yes, he must have run into the former Etone and that was how he came to sit there, probably watching over him for the rest of the night.
He didn't have the heart to wake him either, still feeling a little guilty for having avoided him the day previous. Having Billy just up and admit his feelings out of the blue like that caught him off guard. Bart just needed the time to think about it, or so he convinced himself. In reality, he didn't know how to feel about any of it. He'd never really considered a relationship with another man before, though he'd never denied an attraction to the sleeping Etone. Billy was beautiful, no sense in denying it, but...
A knock resounded off the entrance to the bedroom, derailing Bart's train of thought. He scrambled off the end of the bed, wanting to get to the doors before it woke Billy up. Too late, however, as the former Etone's head lifted rather suddenly, blinking wide eyes as he realized he'd fallen asleep despite himself. He stared as Bart nearly fell off the bed in his fervor to get to the doors, starting to rise from the chair just to make sure he was ok, and then couldn't help but start laughing as the king cursed aloud and had to untangle himself from the bedsheets.
"Let me get it, Bart... you're occupied."
There was a pause and as Billy stepped toward the door, he looked around to the front of the bed and found Bart glaring at him before kicking off the sheets and getting back to his feet. Still, chuckling, it was that mirth that greeted Sigurd as the doors were opened. The silver haired man stood there for a moment, looking between both boys with an eyebrow raised.
"Good morning Billy, Bartolomei," he began, pausing a moment to read the tension in the room despite the overt humor, "I... was coming to get Bart and bring him down to breakfast. Care to join us, Billy?"
"I'd love to, Siggy, let me get dressed, though. I need to get to my things in the other room and then I'll be down," Billy replied but before departing, he paused and leaned in toward the taller man to murmur, "We need to talk later."
Sigurd gave him a thoughtful look, jumping to conclusions, and then nodded, "Later then. See you downstairs, Billy."
"There is nothing going on between us, so don't even think of starting," Bart immediately leapt to the defensive the second Billy was out the doors and Sigurd had shut them again.
Turning, Sigurd frowned and shook his head, "I see. I won't ask why he was in your rooms then. Are you feeling better today? Someone said you were outside last night."
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Bart shrugged his shoulders, "I have no idea why he was in here, so go ahead and ask away. I woke up and he was asleep in that chair by my -- I was outside last night?"
"You don't remember?" Sigurd's brows furrowed together, the eyepatch shifting slightly with the motion, "Perhaps it was Billy who found you then and brought you back here." It would explain why the youth wanted to speak to him, at least. "Get dressed, Young Ma-- ahem, Bart. I think I can trust you to meet us downstairs, can't I?"
Bart just grinned, "Have I ever skipped out on a meal before, Sig?"
Billy didn't expect anyone to knock on the door to his rooms, but in opening them, he was relieved to see it was only Sigurd. Part of him hoped and dreaded the idea of it being Bart standing there. Stepping back, he allowed the taller man inside, going back to getting dressed. The most he really had left to do was comb out his hair, and that never took him very long.
"What happened to Bart last night?" Sigurd got straight to the point. "I heard rumors that he was outside."
Billy sighed, setting the comb aside for the moment, "I found him racing along the balcony corridors outside, he was babbling about needing to go to his father again, Sigurd. Have you noticed that these things never happen to him until after dark? At the cathedral, it wasn't until the sun was setting that he began to run."
"No, I hadn't. It does shed some light on the situation, however. He first left in the dead of the night, also," Sigurd replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I'm not sure what to think of this, Billy. I'm having the tomb cleansed soon, hopefully then we'll get to the bottom of this."
"Do you think it might really be his father's ghost calling to him?"
Sigurd shrugged, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of Bart's rooms, "If so, he doesn't call to me. If not... well, hopefully we'll find out soon. No sense in worrying over it for now, however. You ready?"
Bart nodded enthusiastically, finding that his stomach was more than ready for breakfast and getting vocal about it by rumbling. Sigurd lead the way out the doors and down to the kitchens. Bart preferred not to eat in the huge dining hall, so all of them sat at a small table in the back, staying out of the way of the cooking staff. They all regarded the new king a bit oddly when this habit began, but by now it had become customary. Maison had already arrived and apparently consumed two cups of tea while waiting. It didn't surprise anyone that Bart hadn't gotten there yet, though he finally wandered in a few minutes later. To Billy's relief, nothing seemed changed. The usual round of laughter and goading and teasing continued despite the fact that Bart was now fully aware of his feelings.
"Hey Sig, can I have the day off to show Billy around? Last time he was here, we were taking the place back," Bart eventually asked, actually sounding half serious about it. Well, being a King was a job, in a way. It was just the sort of thing he couldn't shed at the end of the day, a king was always a king. A bit surprised by the request, Billy then looked toward the silver haired man hopefully. Bart wanted to show him around? He didn't want to get his hopes up, but even if Bart didn't want anything more than friendship, he'd be grateful for just that.
"There's nothing to attend to today, that I know of. I don't see why not," Sigurd replied, hushing Maison with just a brief look. The old knight didn't really approve, but kept silent anyway. With all the problems plaguing the young king lately, perhaps a 'day off' would do him some good.
"Great!" Bart chirped and leapt up from his seat, tagging Billy's shoulder in the process, "Come on, let's go."
"Stay out of trouble, Bart!" Sigurd called after the pair, sighing quietly as Bart replied some incoherant reassurance in the distance. Looking back at Maison, he asked, "You're certain he'll eventually calm down, right?"
The old knight merely chuckled and sipped at his tea without responding.
The day was spent exploring every nook and cranny of the palace. Bart didn't bother with showing Billy the decor or the renovations underway, or give him boring lectures on how this, that, or the other had been in the family for generations. No, he took him into the little secret corridors and showed him what lead to where. Billy felt like a few years younger almost, something he rarely allowed himself. Having been the grown up figure to so many children at the orphanage, he had to be the adult, so being with Bart opened up parts of himself that he thought were long gone. Together they laughed and and raced around and even spied on some of the servants and other nobles behind some of the secret passages they wandered through like two kids playing games.
Sadly, it only made Billy love Bart all the more. The topic was never broached, Bart too busy dragging him around and Billy far too happy to be dragged around to want to corner him about it. Eventually they emerged from their secret places, covered in dust and grinning like a couple of brash fools.
"I knew you could relax, if you'd just let yourself," Bart commented, clapping the former Etone on the back.
"Now if you'd just start being a little less impetuous we'd really be getting somewhere," Billy retorted with a mockingly stern look.
After a derisive snort, Bart reached around Billy to grab him in a wrestling hold and noogie his head, "Yeah, yeah. Shall I start calling you Sigurd II?"
Despite the fact that Billy struggled against the hold and tried ducking his head down to avoid Bart's knuckles, he couldn't help but enjoy being as close to the king as he was. But, before he could comment further, Bart let go of him again and started down the corridor, "I'm starving, lets go get something to eat." They'd been wandering all over the place for most of the day, after all, totally missing lunch.
"Hey Bart..." Billy began as he caught up with the king again. He was actually going to bring up his confession to him, but when Bart turned his gaze toward the younger teen, he felt it catch in his throat. His mind raced to come up with a new topic instead. "What happens to you when you hear that voice calling?" Still a serious topic, but at least this one was a bit safer.. or so he thought. Bart stopped walking, freezing in place.
"Billy, I really don't know. It scares me, but I don't think there's a damned thing I can do about it."
"If you want... I could stay with you at night, make sure you don't go wandering." As soon as the offer was past his lips, Billy regretted it and wished he could take it back. Hanging around Bart must be influencing him too much, or so he thought, if he was giving in to his urges to be blunt this easily. But, Bart was like the sun, and Billy couldn't help but feel like one of the planets revolving around him.
"Actually, I'd appreciate that," came the surprising reply, "Oh don't look at me like that... you're my friend, Billy. Nothing's going to change that." Not even your feelings for me. The thought was unspoken, but the king's eyes said as much without needing words.
Billy exhaled softly, relieved, "Great, it's settled then. Now, weren't we gonna get some lunch?"
"Shit, it's nearly dinner now, let's go."
That night, Billy settled into the chair beside Bart's bed again, this time determined to stay awake. Bart asked if he wanted a cot at least, or something more comfortable, but the former Etone refused.
"How can I stay awake to keep an eye on you if I'm laying down?"
Bart was largely silent in the face of this logic and he shrugged, "You don't have to do this, Billy. I mean, I appreciate that you offered and all, and it might help me sleep better but if it means you losing sleep..."
Billy smiled softly and shook his head, "Bart, until we find out what's causing this, someone is going to have to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't wander off. I volunteered, I'm sticking to my word. Now, go to sleep."
With a shrug, Bart rolled over, keeping the covers pulled up to his throat. Billy had already noticed the latticework scars that covered his back, but never commented on them. They seemed a sore point with the king, meaning it was better not to broach the subject. Settling back in the chair, Billy prepared for a long night. He hoped it would prove to be uneventful. Maison had at least provided him a pot of tea and a couple of books by which to occupy himself. Determined to somehow stay awake, he got up every hour or so to wander the balcony and let the cool night air stir his senses. Otherwise, while not reading, he watched Bart as he slept. Sungold hair splayed across the pillow, shining under the dim lighting from the small reading lamp. His breathing was even and he didn't so much as toss or turn once, perhaps sleeping peacefully tonight. It was a good sign. Billy had the urge to crawl in beside him and hold him close, but resisted the idea. Bart conceded to friendship, that would have to do no matter how badly the former Etone ached for something more.
Not long after the midnight hour did it begin. Billy didn't expect to feel anything himself, but when the curtains blew inward, the chill wind made him shiver, leaning over to look over the arm of the chair toward the balcony. The fireplace had mostly burnt out, leaving embers and ashes behind to occasionally crack or pop, just enough left now to give off some heat in the cool of the night. Pale brows furrowed slightly with a sense of foreboding. Something wasn't right, though he couldn't put his finger on what it was.
When Bart stirred restlessly, Billy turned his attention back toward the king, leaning forward in his seat as he watched Bart murmur something incoherent and roll onto his back. Was he going to attempt getting up again? If so, Billy prepared to launch himself onto the bed to hold the other teen down, if he had to. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end and goosebumps lined his arms, hands gripping the armrests of the chair tightly in anticipation. Bart's expression changed to something pained, as if he were now having a nightmare.
"Father..." he murmured and that was all Billy needed to hear. Getting up from the chair, he climbed into the bed, scooting over toward the blonde to reach for his face, smoothing gold hair away from his forehead.
"Bart... your father is dead. Whatever is calling to you is not him. I'm here, you're safe."
A furious gust of wind rustled the curtains then, knocking the reading lamp over and even blowing the blankets around on the bed. Billy was certain he was making something very angry, but it only sealed his determination, reaching for one of Bart's hands to clasp it tightly. That one blue eye opened rather suddenly, staring up at Billy as if he didn't recognize him at all.
"Shhh, don't say anything, just go back to sleep, Bart. You're not going anywhere," Billy said, now using his free hand to press against Bart's chest, just in case he had any ideas of getting up. The king blinked at him a couple of times, muscles tensing as if he meant to try leaving anyway, but then he relaxed again, the eye closing. Billy breathed out a sigh of relief, head hanging and his grasp on Bart's hand relaxing as that sense of foreboding seemed to die with the last ember in the fireplace. He had won this round, at least. It surprised him how easily he'd done so, though he was certain whatever force wanted the king so badly as to summon him almost nightly would try something a little stronger now that it knew Bart had a guardian.
"Don't go," Bart whispered just as Billy started to return to his vigil. Pausing, he looked back at the king, finding that one eye open again, half lidded and gazing at him. "I don't want to be alone."
"Are you sure?" Billy asked, heart suddenly hammering in his chest. After that scare, he wasn't sure he could sleep at all, especially not holding onto Bart. But, when the king nodded, he climbed under the covers beside him and drew in close, finding that he was clung to almost immediately, as if he were a life raft for a drowning man. Though he was sure this really wouldn't change anything come morning, Billy smiled and held the king close, smoothing out that golden hair until he was sure Bart had fallen back to sleep. He'd wanted this for so long that he tried to stay awake, just to remember this, imprint it into his heart and mind.
But, yet again, he eventually fell asleep despite himself.
(To be continued...)